Glareing faces and hurtful jeers.

A shove.

A push.

A punch, made from the fist.

Cries and pleas, hisses and scowls.

Whatever you do simply doesn't matter.

You see him sit through the lessons,

head bowed, a gloom of melancholy like a blanket around him.

You watch the verbal battles,

unhappy but helpless.

You avoid the physical altogether--

rather him than you.

But soon,

you start to notice the signs.

The gaunt face face,

the lack of food--

you know what he's doing to himself,

just because of those meaningless words. 

But what can you do?

And suddenly, you sit up straighter;

an idea unfolds.

You stand up tall, and stride to his table.

You introduce yourself, 

ignoring those well-put jabs.

You stand by his side,

and do what you couldn't do mere years ago--

prevent a friend from self-destruction,

because of constant, never ending bullying.

Poetry Slam: 


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